Pathétique: Symphony For The Different
by The Play of Pessimism
Summary: Set after the Christmas Special. Twisted version of what would happen if Thomas and Tom were to become friends. And to Jimmy's concern, extremely friendly. You are hereby warned: Slow relationship development. Baroque tendency in descriptions. Men will fall in love with men. Unicorns and Sapphira might appear. Classical music appreciation.
1. Prelude in E-minor

**Pathétique: Symphony For The Different**

**Warnings:** none

**Rated:** K+ as a chapter, T as a story.

**Reader's Expectative:** Blue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Downton Abbey, nor any of its parts but the fandom. Julian Fellowes wrote the story I decided to cry and derive upon.

**Note:** First Downton fic and first time writing something in a style that is reminiscent of a historical period. I hope you enjoy it because it should be the start of a small story for both Thomas and Tom, where even Jimmy and Elsie will play key parts. I must tell you that I am not a reliable writer, but something will come out of this because I have plenty of compositions that assure me

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**Chapter 1: Prelude in E minor **

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Beams of sunlight were allowed once again in the house, yet, no motives for celebration beheld the inhabitants. Two babies born under the same star held the same curse: everlasting grief.

He was surprised when the curtains were drawn and the rays illuminated the face of a living corpse. Lady Mary had it the worst today but after that, it was the two of them, the forever striving widows.

His initial confusion incremented the second he sat up and faced to his side. Mr. Barrow was brushing the shoulders of the blackest and grimmest suit the under-butler had been able to find. As if on cue, Mr. Barrow proceeded to explain himself:

_"Mr. Branson, I am sorry to startle you but given the circumstances, I have decided to offer my help wherever it might be needed. It appears Mrs. Hughes had a special interest in you being serviced by a valet, this morning. As a starting point."_ Thomas had not finished speaking but chose to provide a minute of silence in order to allow Mr. Branson to grasp the matter thereby presented. Before beginning to speak again he left the suit hanging on the appropriate peg.  
_"To her, I was the logical option in spite of not being entitled to regularly attend you as a valet but Mr. Carson was out of the question, and Mr. Molesley-"_

Tom cut in abruptly, for he noticed that the conversation was about to drift into undesired areas for both of them. "_Mr. Barrow, it is very kind of you and I understand but I'm not really comfortable with this, and today wouldn't be the best day to star, I think."_

_"I see, Mr. Branson."_ Thomas sternly answered. "_Still, my job needs to be done and quickly because I may be needed downstairs."_

The offence had been taken and nothing could be done except to obey his own duty so as to leave the skin unbruised. The man he used to dislike, Thomas, was now Mr. Barrow, who had to dress him immediately so that Matthew Crawley's funeral could run with no further reasons for unpleasantness.

Then Tom remembered, and while the other man got him properly dressed, the memories permitted Tom to picture that same man holding back tears behind a sombre complexion, only an year ago. He was compelled to steal a glance at Thomas just to see a weaker kind of pain showing but sorrow and anguish fighting to be freed from the thick walls of an obligation conveyed in one face. The same face that had escaped battles that his late brother-in-law had to fight in nonetheless, and survive; all of it so that another baby could be left without one of its parents.

Yet, the silence that had been maintained by both men was about to be broken by bitter but adequate words. Hitherto they could break the peace, two pairs of eyes met and for a second focused on each other, leaving a trail of compassion.

_"You re ready to leave, Mr. Branson. I am sorry for the disturbance."_

And with that, the under-butler left, taming with him the strangled aura of unwelcome misery.

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**There it is! A first instalment of this thingy that will revolve around Tom and Thomas. It is gloomy but only because I watched the CS again. I cried again. Will post it in FF soon enough, hope it was enjoyable! As the title suggests it would be a Prelude, which in musical terms means that is a composition free of any kind of predetermined format of structure. Its a Preface for a bigger musical composition. I have just learned to play this particular prelude on the piano, and its beautiful and sad, just like Downton Abbey these days.**

**Also, I am sorry for any mistakes and the brevity of the chapter, but the length may vary in accordance with what I want to show in each episode, so, next time you may see Elsie and Carson as well, or Jimmy and Alfred. I am a bit scared of the incommensurability of this story but if you guys encourage me, I'll keep it up. I can write it in Tumblr first from my iPod but I'll find a way to post it here as well.**

**Oh just to tell you, I'd name the pairing TomTom because I am in a current lack of better ideas.**

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**There's more to come!**


	2. Overture Part 1: Swan Lake

**Pathétique: Symphony For The Different**

**Warnings:** none but those you would find in the TV Series. The slash is not evident yet, so nothing to worry about for those of you M/M haters. Of course, there will be mentions of homosexuality.

**Rated:** T

**Reader's Expectative:** Lillac

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Downton Abbey, nor any of its parts but the fandom. Julian Fellowes wrote the story I decided to cry and derive upon.

**Note:** This was originally intended to be longer, but I want to make sure you guys receive something at least before I leave for my holidays. Do not panic, I have my notebook (paper notebook guys) and i Pod to write and post so don't expect me to disappear just like that. I hope you have a jolly Downton Abbey-ish 2013. That, and well enjoy your winter while I placidly lie back on my summer sun and wind (yes, January is not good on us either). Also I am not a native speaker, even though i have been learning for as long as I can remember, but my country's official language is Spanish, so please, forgive me for any grammatical issue you may find. I'm not that bad in English but I should warn you ;)

Have fun!

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**Overture: Moderato assai - Allegro non troppo**

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The usual steam and bustle of the early six o'clock breakfast preparatives was excessively calm compared in contrast to custom. Mrs. Patmore looked tired while managing with Daisy, Ivy and the kitchen maids to cook something adequate for the situation the house had now fell upon, making the 'downstairs' no exception in its deathly grip. The poor attempts at making the atmosphere bearable achieved their maximum efficiency with Alfred, who decided to focus on a controversial topic with such a scandalous past, it would be able to irk some interest in those considering staying in bed eternally; nobody was at ease with yet another phantom floating around the house and making the arrival of winter even more dreadful.

"_So you friends with Mr. Barrow now?_" Alfred asked Jimmy as they entered the kitchen, earning a puzzled look from the shorter footman, and Ivy while she helped Daisy prepare the trays that were to be taken upstairs.

_"Mr. Barrow and I have spoken. And I didn't see why we couldn't be friends."_ Jimmy replied tactfully avoiding any detail that could let his guiltless mask show. Alfred smiled and said _"Well, I'm glad for once."_ Daisy abruptly stopped working as soon as she heard the word 'glad' and looked at Alfred with disbelief, but before she could verbally object, a smiling Ivy joined the conversation: _"After all, it was the leas you could do for him, right Jimmy?"_. As soon as she placed the last plate of scones on the tray, a beaming Daisy shushed them.

_"Yes, very lovely. Now get on with you, breakfast can't arrive late!"_ she ordered the footmen, and received shocked glances from Ivy and Alfred, whereas Jimmy, snorted and left with his tray muttering loudly enough a snarky: _"Alright, Mrs. Patmore."_

Whilst they made their way up, Thomas walked with eager steps heading for downstairs It was slow enough so as to avoid arising any kind of attention, especially preventing any noise that would disrupt the family's misery, since his day did not need any further encouragement to become more unbearable by having Carson making a scene, or even reminding him of the privilege he had been allowed by becoming under-butler and remaining in the house. Fortunately, valeting Mr. Branson, his Lordship's only son in law left, proved to be quick enough to compensate for the uncomfortable air that effluviated every time he had to face the former chauffeur He was alright, he supposed, and from the moment Branson had attempted to play a vile trick on that general when Downton had become a convalescent home, Thomas had began to not dislike the man. He was still a servant in his eyes, though, and one who had achieved a dream that was not his, but held all the power and ambition Thomas did not want to cherish any more It was all because of Lady Sybill, the kindest heart in the house, and love, something Thomas would not be able to show boldly, not after what happened with Jimmy. However, if he had to valet Branson, he would do it, he needed to distance himself from the loathing he had been surrounded in, he could not risk to upset anyone, not any more. And especially not today.

Contradiction awaited him at the top of the staircase in the form of a bitter faced Sarah O'Brien, and for a moment he scorned at the idea of two reptiles playing a game of stairs, and predictably enough, his thoughts were interrupted by his fellow snake and a hidden concern for Lady Grantham's well-being. _"Her Ladyship was so sad, devastated, by everything. She had so much hope in the late Mr. Crawley. But then, you played valet to the chauffeur a most entertaining task for you, right Thomas?"_. Ignoring her hissing and unspoken words carried by her venomous scent. He knew better than to pay any attention to her any more, not after what happened with Jimmy. He decidedly continued walking, while she carried on:

_"I heard you were quite generous after I left with the family, and that you even got your hands dirty in a tug-of-war. But I would guess it was your face that got the worst part of it, unless that happened otherwise."_ She knew every detail to what had happened then, and did not feel any kind of remorse by making fun of his helplessness _"Well Thomas, I must congratulate you. You gained yourself an admirer, I expect. As I said before, you two make a cozy couple."_ Whether she was truly aware of the whole situation or not, the words had stung again, and this time Thomas couldn't brush them off in silence, but proceeded to fist his hands and as controlled as possible answer simply:

_"I know what you think, Ms. O'Brien, but he is no admirer of mine. Now if you-"_

_"Don't play dumb with me Thomas. I hope he was worth the fuss."_

_"Excuse me, Ms. O'Brien but I have forgotten to pass a message onto Mr. Branson. Allow me to leave, and we shall discuss your particular interest in my relationship with James later on."_

Immediately after saying that, he turned around and marched towards the opposite direction, sighing in the form of a huff, and trying to come up with any excuse as to why he was late to hand in the letters to the family during breakfast, now that he had evaded Sarah, but needed to get close enough to Branson's room so as to make his parting believable. Nevertheless, before silence surrounded him again, he heard a scornful voice mutter behind him.

_"Oh, I am sure of it."_

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**Now now, I have to thank all of my reviewers and those who followed a story of barely 800 words!**

**Naughty Captain Crieff: **I have the same feeling, I like the pairing but it mostly arose from Rob's and Allen's romance. And that video where Allen says "Antena Trress" which made me roar with laughter several times. Now, I have noticed that these two are not that bad to each other, and Branson even welcomes Thomas in S02, somehow anyway. Still, coming back to this, I trust myself to commit enough for this pairing to become a possibility.

**Failed de-Anon:** Precisely the reason I am writing this, they are amazing characters, and actors. They need more screentime together, but meanwhile I'll spare Fellowes the trouble and writhe the scenes myself ahah.

**hillevi:** Thanks for the kind words!

**Thank you again guys, and I just want to make this more interesting by asking you to answer me a question or two. **

**Pretend I'm a sphinx, so:**

** 1) Where was the Overture piece taken from?**

**2) Why would it be appropriate?**

**Have fun!**


	3. Overture Part 2: William Tell

**Pathétique: Symphony For The Different**

**Warnings:** none but those you would find in the TV Series. The slash is not evident yet, so nothing to worry about for those of you M/M haters. Of course, there will be mentions of homosexuality.

**Rated:** T

**Reader's Expectative:** Watery green?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Downton Abbey, nor any of its parts. Just a member of the fandom. Julian Fellowes wrote the TV series I decided to cry and derive upon, begetting this.

**Note: **Onceagain I disappoint you with barely 1,300 words and I must say it took me some time. I'm still deciding on how to write this and which direction it is going to take. Also, I'm currently in my Summer holidays which explains my absence in January. I'm here now and willing to hear any response you have. I am saving the next chapter for the funeral and you should know I think it will be where I will decide how to proceed, romance wise. Ah yes! I was told the writing was STIFF! Oh Lord, you don't know HOW THAT MADE ME SMILE! Its not a positive comment, I know, but when I was studying for the FCE (something non-native speakers sit to have a decent degree in Language) I had problems with the informal letters because I was too pompous and formal! I'm sorry if this is too short but I'm struggling with studying piano, working on essays, beginning the revision for my IBs and writing this. I really like the Thomas fans, so I'll keep engineering things for you all.

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**Overture Part 2 : Guillaume Tell Overture**

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_There's a snake lurking in the grass._

Thomas could not help but quote Virgil whenever he found himself speaking to his former friend, Ms. O'Brien. He was not quick enough to put it in mind an year ago, when her fangs bombed venom into Jimmy's mind. Jimmy, Thomas thought, would quote anything in Latin, unless he wasn't as familiar with books as Thomas was. In another time but maybe in the same land, both of them could have worked on that together. The unwelcome feeling of rejection was knocking his door once again but he wouldn't let himself fantasize when experience had clearly exposed the gruesome consequences of being too idealistic.

As he walked, Thomas allowed himself to remember his early days in the house and his friendship with Ms. O'Brien; he had waltzed right under her wing and shared a few cigarettes with her, smiling occasionally however nasty they deemed their situation as servants. She was genuine sometimes, seldom leaving Thomas with the impression that they were true friends bonding over an unlawful bridge which they could not help but be born on. This impression faded with time but threatened to become a crystal-like fact during the war, where Thomas remembered how drawn to her Ladyship she had been. He should have been grateful for her persuasive ways which had brought him back to his old working place, and had allowed him temporary altitude in the downstairs quarters. Thomas halted his walking pace abruptly only to smile at his slyness; arrogance and ambition were qualities he shouldn't worship but his pride gracefully danced at the thought of his female and maleficent counterpart's dependence on her employer, or rather, her employer's wife. Whilst these qualities had, in part, set the distance between them, Thomas was glad they had recovered from their bartered state, regardless of Mr. Bates' generous share of mending skills which Thomas had to keep in mind to be grateful about. He was sure that kindness wouldn't have knocked on his door if God had any say on the matter, nobody would have if on God's mercy he had to depend on.

Bitterly, Thomas put a stop to his wonderings and focused on a present that imminently enough would shake him awake if his sleep was left undisturbed. He was delaying his walk downstairs because of something O'Brien had said, and he was heading to Mr. Branson's room, again, with not a single adequate excuse. What could he say? I just did not want to listen to her so I decided to visit you again, Mr. Branson. He kept on walking with a slower pace and unconsciously looked up to the ceiling and sighed. Two days ago, he would have been found in his room, freshly wounded and with hope steaming from his body at James' innocent acceptance of his proposal. He had a friend now, and people had cared about him the two times Jimmy somehow managed to get him hurt. He sincerely hoped his round of unfortunate events had ended but he was certain that there was more in store for him. Suddenly, he remembered the man he should be lamenting on, the man who had in one of his worst moments indirectly helped him to his feet. He had been alone, a wolf of the deserts back in his first years at Downton. He had wanted to escape the war but she sombrely found a way to creep into his life and destroy whatever dignity and bravery he could have had. This man, the late Matthew Crawley had found him in the trenches, he had talked to him and had tea with him. _Another kind soul now gone._

He had become soothed by the memories and had stopped walking without realizing where he was.

As soon as he raised his hand to knock on the door, the handle twisted and the door was determinedly opened, uncovering a hesitant Branson who was now standing with confused eyes before Thomas. When the situation gained clearness in their minds, both men were held silent by a trance that a wave of uneasiness had brought the moment the crystalline grey of Tom's eyes met the strangled blue of the under-butler. Smiling, words easily flowed out of Tom's mouth: "That's the second time you startle me, Thomas. Did you forget something? I thought you had work downstairs."

Thomas was about to raise an eyebrow at Branson's choice of words and tone but fought the aggressive snarl that attempted to burst out with a reminder of his entitled and appropriate addressing, by looking down and controlling his breath. Almost sighing, he answered "I-I am sorry. Sir. I came back to...er, I wanted to apologize." _Wait, what? Apologize? For what?_ Thomas scolded himself in his head but continued "I behaved rather coldly earlier and in the given situation, I feel it was inappropriate."

"Oh. Thank you." was the amused reply he received, followed by comfortable silence. "I believe both of us are required to go downstairs."

"_Downstairs_.. sir?" He couldn't recall what but he felt like there was something he needed to be doing and it did not involve Tom Branson.

"I mean, for breakfast."

At the mention of the word "breakfast", realization hit Thomas. Excusing himself and quickly walking back to the staircase, he left Mr. Branson confused once again.

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Change of scenery. The dull grey of the kitchen roars with dissatisfaction at the gleam of a tray left to be served.

"Daisy, have you seen Mr. Barrow?" a scowling Mrs. Patmore asked. The two footmen had left a minute ago and the under-butler had not made an act of presence in the kitchen. He wouldn't be needed on a daily basis, but today, a day after the unfortunate incident, tea and toasts would not be the only thing being served. Both Lady Mary and Her Ladyship would have their breakfast in bed, as usual, but Lady Edith, His Lordship and Mr. Branson would be up for the meal. Mr Barrow today would have to carry some whiskey upstairs along with dark chocolate treats.

Mr. Barrow hadn't showed up yet, and her patience was running low. Daisy went out to the Servant's Hall to take a look, only to find it deserted. Knowing Mrs. Patmore would throw a fit if she came back with no news, she decided to look for Mrs. Hughes and find out, at least, something about Thomas' whereabouts. Luckily, she was in her study browsing through some papers.

"Mrs. Hughes, do you know where Mr. Barrow is?" she asked in her girly voice.

"Why, is he not down yet?" she paused. "I only sent him up to valet Mr. Branson but it shouldn't have lasted this long." She looked perplexed, and wondered whether she had done the right thing in asking Thomas, of all people, to valet a man whose rebellious ideas, however modern, wouldn't help to dissipate the stiff unpleasantness valeting a chauffeur may bring. May the Lord forbid _anything_ else happened. To put Daisy at ease, and due to her small share of responsibility in view of her seemingly insensible decision, Mrs. Hughes marched into the kitchen.

"What's this? Mrs. Hughes, I don't think Mr. Carson-".

"I don't think Mr. Carson would want to leave this here, am I wrong Mrs. Patmore? Let me take this and worry about him later." the housekeeper replied, and with that she lifted the tray and turned to walk out.

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes but I will have to take it from here". Rushed steps halted her pace and two gloved hands enthusiastically held the tray, and with a nod Thomas Barrow was waltzing upstairs with a certain distress contradicted by his gentle expression.

Joining her comrade, Mrs. Patmore stood behind Mrs. Hughes sighing in exasperation:

"I told ye, that man is a troubled soul. And this time, me's not saying it for the girls alone."

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**I only have to thank you for bearing with this and with me! Thank you all who followed this story and the one that marked it as Favourite! All of this seems filler-stuff right? Sorry for that, but if good is to come, it shall move and progress naturally. And please, if yu can, listen to the pieces I propose in each title. I assure you, they will make your life much more enjoyable. **

**Up to now we have: Chopin's Prelude No. 4 in E-minor + Swan Lake's Introduction by Tchaikovsky + Rossini's William Tell Overture.**

**Moving on to the reviewers!**

**STAR-NEMESIS:** Its quite an unpopular pairing right? We should be getting some more, even though _Three's A Crowd_ includes some heavy and sweaty scenes between these guys. Did you notice how Tom helped Thomas onto his feet after the in the CS? They are you for taking your time.

**Failed De-anon:** Hahaha! Swan Lake it was and I must say that I link the deep notes and chords with desire, evil, despair and darkness, while the higher notes are for other kind of emotions and thoughts. O'Brien is like a witch but let's avoid that theory unless we want Thomas killing himself in the Finale, ok? Now, thank you once again for a great review! Everyone's tense, and Thomas is barely up on his feet really, you will notice now and then that he is not as sensible as he should be. Also, watch out for Jimmy and Daisy giving him friendly talk.

**TopOfChaplin: **Yes, guys blush and I am the proof of it right now. Thank you so much for the brief but incredibly encouraging words. I think all of us need some of that in some given moment.

**Claire:** You know you made me smile, right? I am sorry to say I can't let go of my flowery style. I simply don't know how (I'm more of a poet, I rarely write multi-chaptered things). I have to agree, we got very little of him in every chapter. Even in Series 3 Finale, his part was as relevant as Ethel's and I don't think that is fair. Still, think of it, two scandals "solved" in one episode. Anyway Ep 7-8 showed RJC's acting skills and their development from Series 2. I actually like the idea of changing the show's name into The Thomas Barrow Show (I loved the idea and the fic, because there is one in AO3). Thank you for your time and words. They helped me to consider other ways of saying things. Am I getting any better?

**Ok, since the Sphinx thingy was not very popular I decided to turn to Photoshop. My Tumblr is **_graphic-closet-play_** and there you will find all kinds of rambles, but also works on photoshop inspired by Downton Abbey and Thomas. I wish I could insert the cover I made for this fic. Oh well, here's the link to it:**

(graphic-closet-play).(tumblr) image/41687674584

_**Enjoy! **  
_


	4. First movement from the Symphony

**Pathétique: Symphony For The Different**

**Warnings:** none but those you would find in the TV Series. The slash is not evident yet, so nothing to worry about for those of you M/M haters. Of course, there will be mentions of homosexuality. THIS CHAPTER IS PARTICULARLY BIPOLAR, you may find it extremely angsty by the end.

**Rated:** T

**Reader's Expectative:** Pastel turquoise.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Downton Abbey, nor any of its parts. I'm just a member of the fandom. Julian Fellowes wrote the TV series I decided to cry and derive upon, begetting this.

**Note: It took me two days to write this but a whole week to plan it. The symphony itself has been helping me in inspiration, but today I discovered the best rendition you could possibly imagine of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto in B-flat. Who? Daniil Trifonov at the piano showing amazing and virtuous technique and sentiment. Les Misèrables has also helped to revive the "Eroica" feeling inside of me as well as the zealousness to work and produce things, whetehr academically, in piano or here. **

**I must thank you all for reading this, and sticking up with my experiment. I have some Thommy ideas but those can wait for a while. **

**So now, enjoy this piece!**

**Cover Art: **(24)(media)(tumblr)com+ /ae177dd7e1e2abe940809bd7ec85 bfd6/tumblr_mhbs1reBUW1qhqy82o1_

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**First Movement : Adagio - Allegro non troppo**

_Notice that each movement will begin with the original themes of Tchaikovsky's 6th Symphony in B minor, but in the story,_

_ they will have from two to four parts which will represent the movement itself, musically and emotionally speaking._

_ This means that the melodies and transitions from the First movement _

_will also be portrayed by the flow of the other musical pieces featured after the original movement._

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"Its nice, out here isn't it?" her raspy voice said from behind. He hadn't noticed her arrival, even less the smoke tat was now coming his way. Sarah O'Brien had decided that going into the Servant's backyard to make conversation with an old friend wouldn't hurt. Both knew that their friendship had ended more than a year ago.

Thomas spared one side look at her and maintaining an uninterested face, he put the fag once again in his mouth. From the corner of his eye he could see how his face was being scrutinized and how her head turned frontwards and how the mouth opened once again before it even uttered a word. "I mean it. The whole house needs a rest, and I think we do too. I won't say you didn't deserve what happened, but I was also in the wrong." Her sentence finished with another cloud emerging from her mouth. They both looked at each other; his eyes looking surprised, hers calm.

"You proposing a truce?" his question was responded with a nod but before she could say anything more, Jimmy's voice resounded through the yard: "Mr. Barrow, a' you busy?". His volume earned him two exalted faces staring at him, and a few cuts from the knives Ms. O'Brien was mentally throwing his direction.

"I suppose not." and with that Thomas, got up, taking one last look at O'Brien, his suspicacity showing behind the irises. He walked towards the door where Jimmy was standing and smiled at him. "Now Jimmy, what is the matter?".

"Nothing really, just thinking that maybe, you know, you would, er, need to talk." Noticing Thomas' questioning face, he added: "I din't mean nothin'. I only thought that after last year, you would 'av needed someone, I dunno, to let it out. You know, a friend." At the evidence of his failure in trying to convey a clear message, Jimmy looked down and sighed. "I just want to help if you need anything".

Thomas expression was immediately ablaze with sincere happiness. Here he was, standing in front of a boy who had gone as far as forgiven him for assaulting him in the night. It had taken time and a few scars that were bound to finish healing in a few days, still, if it all got him a friend, he would present no complaints. Cracking another smile he voiced his gratitude: "Thank you, Jimmy. You're being too kind but I'm no fragile doll. I can handle it." Leaving a scorn at the end of the sentence, his heart felt the warmth of comraderie at Jimmy's small laughter.

Both men started pacing inside into the Servant's Hall to take a seat, but Thomas allowed himself to glance towards the yard in pride and contempt at the woman whose eyes iced their flames as soon as the attention was noticed. Smirking, Thomas, once fully inside, caught up with Jimmy and sat down at the table, making conversation while they waited for Mr. Carson to announce that they were leaving.

"No matter what _you-know-who_ says, don't trust it. Bad air, that's it."

Jimmy raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Well, I bet its the moths in her hair." They both roared with laughter at his cheek, and kept on catching each other's infectious giggling. Stopping to breathe, Jimmy asked "What did the _malum anus_ say?"

"A truce I think. To be partners in crime again. But what did you just call her?"

"_Malum anus_. Evil old woman." And with that, Thomas' joy erupted in a volcano of incredulous laughter, which increased in volume at Jimmy's failed attempt to hold back his amusement.

A scoff. "Mr. Barrow, James. May I be acquaintanced with your motives for such inappropriate behaviour? I don't believe the situation allows for such an act to be put up with." Now grimly faced, Thomas swallowed his cheer and looked with an apologetic expression at Mr. Carson.

"I apologize, Mr. Carson. James and I were just trying to cheer up. That is all."

"Yes, I suppose that would be needed." The butler sighed. "You are excused for now but don't make me repeat myself. Now, Mr. Barrow, before we leave, Mrs. Hughes asked me to tell you that you'll act as valet to Mr. Branson from now on." Anticipating Thomas' distress, he added: "You are to remain an under-butler, in title, but your duties will also include dressing and tending to Mr. Branson."

"I see..." Thomas actually didn't. Molesley was needed in Crawley house, serving Mrs. Crawley but Branson had always dressed himself. He decided he would ask Mrs. Hughes later on, he knew she would know something about it. It probably had something to do with that horribly forward housemaid, Edna. He didn't miss Jimmy's stare, showing anticipation, so he politely answered to Carson's report "I see- no problem Mr. Carson. Has Mr. Branson been informed? This morning, he was shocked to find me drawing the curtains of his room."

Carson blinked in distaste at the idea Thomas in Branson's room without him being informed. "Well, I suppose you will have to cure him of his ignorance otherwise. We are to leave in five minutes. Please tell the others."

* * *

Black shadows surrounded the female form whose slender frame dissipated any golden ray daring to leave its hot home now in frost-gilt. Where once a rich spectrum of oranges illuminated every corner of the village and every lavish architectural piece of the great Downton Abbey, icy spirits now prepared the living ones for early winter daydreaming. The heir was lying at their feet inside of the dreaded wooden object, showing the world's destructive will and cunning mechanisms.

Lady Mary reminisced the statue of a weeping angel who stoically stored the tears and emotions inside in a valiant attempt to represent the face of hope to all the sufferers that stood around her. Matthew would be safe and free at last, whether God took him or as a part of the world of nothingness. Either way, his suffering had ended, and with it his joy. She tried to lift her soul by revelling in the safety and peace Matthew was now graced with; it was useless. She helplessly but without lacking poise, looked to her left side and saw her family and their miserable eyes, going from her father's lifeless eyes to Edith's silent bloodshot-weeping. At her right, she saw her second family and more importantly the two faces whose warmth had helped her become a happy woman able to bear a child, Charles Carson and Anna Bates.

Her husband was now buried, few feet away from where her sister peacefully rested. Images of them, of Lavinia, of William, and the lives they could have led pierced her chest aiming to wound her body and force her to dwell into a pain she could not allow herself to fall into. Complete abstinence was easier and more bearable than trying to be moderate in the melancholic vice that threatened to take down the entire household in its irate tempest. She would remain strong, she had to. She must incarnate strength.

As the foreground of the funerary painting grew gloomier, in the background, family relations allowed tears to run down their faces as well as the short lengthed sighs. Standing closer to the gravestone in a strangled standing position was Thomas who occasionally glanced towards the rest of the servants, finding a matching face in O'Brien, an upset look in Jimmy, impermeable cheeks and slight trembling in Mrs. Hughes and Anna, heavy breaths and red eyes in Molesley and a pained Carson who was fighting the urge to run to Lady Mary and comfort her as a baby orphan in a nursery.

Then he saw Bates with eyes cold from sadness but his expression firm enough to allow anyone comfort. Anyone but Thomas whose lips began shivering as he realized how envious he remained of his strength, of his wilful nature and inherent kindness towards everyone, regardless of their living status. When Bates' eyes met his, he swallowed sharply, feeling his throat at pain and struggling to remain straight-faced. His gaze met the rest of the nocturne-inspiring environment, and before he could stop himself, his eyes travelled to Lady Sybill's grave. They remained there until he perceived movement and shaky but deep breaths caught his ear.

Uncontrollable sobs escaped Isobel Crawley's mouth as soon as the vicar ended the ceremony and people began to leave. Dr. Clarkson was acting as her physical grudge while the Dowager Countess walked by her side and did everything in her power to soothe her. Thomas felt a small warm hand on his shoulder and looked at its owner. Anna forced a smile beneath the tears.

"I think you should go to see her." came the soft voice."Nobody is over it, but few can endure more tragedy on the same day."

Thomas eyes shot down as he felt that every second she was near him brought with it a pair of cutting tears into his face. He tried to relax and looked at her so that she could see him nod. She was leaving when she heard the unexpected "Thank you" resound in the air. It was a stiff one but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

The path to her resting place was filled with scattered pieces of shattered crystals which became thicker and sharper with each step the under-butler took. His walk of agony flowed like a slimy river whose solitude was cured as clearer streams swam beside him, one before and one closely behind. Lady Edith had apparently left her fianc e behind and was now paying her sister the deserved remembrance She wore a sincere smile hinting nostalgia, and as she noticed the man approaching her, it seemed to grow. Their moment did not last long, for another presence drew up in its gallant melancholy, showing love to a dead wife.

Thomas stood between them uncomfortably and as he tried to distract himself, he thought about bringing flowers to Sybill in his next day-off. He wondered which ones would she like best. Perhaps he could get that out from Branson later on. That wasn't manipulative, not if he wished for something noble. He wished she was standing here, alive and irradiating kindness. She would have known how to lift everybody's spirits, and he could swear she would have the Jimmy-centred events a great deal easier. But then, if she were alive, he wouldn't have been as desperate for someone to show him affection, even in its least amount. He wouldn't have been swayed by the pretentious words that sickly tormented him into kissing Jimmy. His thoughts silenced when the clouds and the wind opened their mouths, and as if on cue, so did Branson.

"It's nice of you to be here, Mr. Barrow."

His lips slowly quivered into a smile. "She would deserve more, but thank you. Mr. Branson." His strangled breaths now matched Edith's crescendoing sobs and before he could realize what he was doing, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it. "Here, m'lady. She wouldn't want you to spoil a face with tears."

Facing him in disbelief, Lady Edith accepted it and voiced a barely audible "Thank you, Thomas". She suddenly coughed and a faintly pronounced laugh escaped her lips. Seeing the confused looks from the other men she said "I'm sorry, it is just that...-Sybill was the strong one, and Mary knows how to hide her feelings. I-I-It just seems funny that I'm now asked to be both. Just, never mind me. Thank you again, Thomas. I can see why she liked you." And after those verses filled with tone swings, she handed back the handkerchief and walked away with another forced smile.

The chills running through the men's spines held them tense and cold. The storm would leave them on flooded ground and its glacier chill only encouraged them to remain still, fearing that any movement would make their numb cheeks to become frozen with sharply iced drops longing to show. Edith had left them cold in her confession as they each realized their helplessness at everybody else's suffering. Drowning into the whirlwind of self-pity whose silhouette threatened to materialize any moment, Thomas' scars began to burn and his breathing turned into agonized whimpering. Branson immediately noticed the change in attitude and before Thomas began coughing, he had his arm on his back and helping him walk away from the graveyard.

"Easy there. We are going back now, try to remain strong."

Thomas didn't brush off Branson's help but showed no sign of gratitude. He choked a few times on their way to the car where Edith had decided to wait for them in the only car left. As they approached the car, he released himself from the strong arm helping him and regained his composure He glanced at Tom, trying to coldly acknowledge his good intentions but found himself rooted to his position, trying to remain stiff but polite in front of his companion whose kindness only served to bring his curse into the surface. A curse no Enchantress could inflict on him.

* * *

**Okay, so you had to wait but it was worth it, right? ...right? RIGHT? Haha I hope you enjoyed every interaction because I put many pianists' fingers and many pieces of my emotional mind into this. I want it to be a story, a good one, with styles flowing into each other making it too easy to read sometimes, while in other times its just unbearable. If you notice the pattern of the flow, please PM me so we can have a nice conversation. Otherwise, you may also be able to find some references or symbols which I may have dropped here and there. Oh, and if anyone knows Latin, I am a Spanish speaker so I kind of get when it sounds right or not, but I may make mistakes. PM so that I can correct them.**

**So now, just review please. I want to know your opinion. You noticed I made it longer for the early reviewers' pleasure and well put in more interactions and made it less stiff. Just drop a comment and make me smile! **

**Now, I answer the reviews from the Overture Pt. 2:**

**Failed-De-anon: **I love it how you review every time! Thank you! I guess the mourning reaches its pinnacle here in the First Movement and its parts. But I try to show life behind mourning and how different characters find themselves thrown into the Lake. Beware colourful explosions may appear in the 3rd movement (I hope I get there...)

**mentalillusions:** Why, thank you! I love writing but such compliments make me feel more passionate about it! Thank you so much! You got the Jimmy-Tom thing, then. I'm glad. It will be Tom/Thomas but maybe, it wont last forever. Maybe it will. We'll see hahah

**12whitewhine:** Thanks for that! I'll try to make her a bit more complicated than just a trouble-maker because in the series we actually see her "feeling" more times than Thomas. Thomas is the true villain who may find redemption in S4, but i doubt it now. He is not good, but he's slowly becoming less bad.

**Thank you to anyone who followed and favourited me or the story! **

**You are great!**

** This fandom is great!**

** Downton is beyond great!**

** And Maggie Smith is God on Earth.**


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